What am I?
by The Bohemian Rhapsody
Summary: (Was originally marked for deletion) Money is a powerful thing. A small amount isn't enough, and a large amount will only end in tragedy.


**Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Take Two, Rockstar, or the Grand Theft Auto franchise.**

**This story is a poorly made drabble that was originally to be deleted, due to it's poor plot and poor detailing of character dialogue.**

**This story was made in 2018, and has been published because the document was to expire within the week****.**

_Los Santos, 2018_

_Five years after The Big Score_

_Davis/MacDonald Street_

"Nigga, I swear, dope should be the last thing on your mind." A skinny man stood behind his new housemate, a stone cold look in his eyes. "What's wrong with you? Still mad about your girl hitting it off with that doctor?"

"Fuck you, man, she ain't my girl." replied the other man of a larger build, with bloodshot eyes. "Least, not anymore..." He took a long drag from his roll and coughed out the dark grey smoke. "I lost twenty mil, dawg, I'm just another broke-ass nigga with nothin' to live for..." He starts to choke on the joint, and with it came dark red mucus.

The problems don't end there. Three men stole two hundred million dollars, but all three men are broke.

Franklin Clinton spent millions investing in Vapid stock, but when the company went bust in 2017, he lost his shares, his house, his cars and his possessions. Living with his longtime friend, Lamar Davis, he barely gets enough money to feed his growing drug addictions.

_Rockford Hills_

"I hate myself... I hate people... I FUCKING HATE THEM ALL!" The screams of self hate and a scraping of knives echo throughout the mostly empty vista in the hills, the walls faded and damp, the garden overrun by weeds, windows covered by boards and the tennis court left unattended, now beyond restoration.

Michael Townley, or 'DeSanta', lost his money trying to develop a blockbuster film that bombed upon release. Afterwards, he redeveloped his drinking habits, and after assaulting his former spouse in an intoxicated rage, she divorced him, taking whatever was left of value. She moved to Carcer City, and has enforced a one mile restraining order.

Michael was left to wallow in the shit he leaves around the house, since he can no longer afford a maid, or gardener. The house is full of empty beer cans, cigar ends, takeout food and plates, bowls and cutlery, left for years to attract bacteria and rodents.

_Sandy Shores, Grand Senora_

"Do I feel happy? Did I need the money? No, of course not, the money... the money was a curse, a CURSE! A FUCKING CANCER! A CANCER LIKE THOSE CUNTS! ALL OF THEM ARE FUCKING CUNTS!" Screams of anger filled the sparsely populated trailer park, as a man wheeled himself down a makeshift ramp to his 'garden'.

Trevor Philips was arrested in 2014 for genocide, and was sentenced to a collective five hundred years in the federal penitentary. During this time, he was severely injured in a riot, where he was engulfed in flames by an exploding gas canister, which resulted in both his legs being horribly mutilated.

After being transferred to a minimum security police hospital, he had a double amputation performed on his legs, and spent two months comatose. However, he still managed to escape when Michael and Franklin posed as two doctors, and proceeded to take him back to Los Santos in an ambulance.

He spent his money on having his police records wiped, and 'officially' killing Trevor Philips, who 'died' in hospital. But he is bound to a wheelchair, and refuses to use prosthetic limbs.

**_What am I?_**

**_I am greater than God_**

"Why... I didn't want this... MOTHER!!! MAA!!!!!" Trevor clutched his chest, gasping for air, while he sobbed for the last time.

**_The rich need me_**

**_The poor own me_**

"I HAVE HAD ENOUGH!" Michael slit his throat, and let the tears flow one more time.

**_If you eat me, you will die_**

"Frank? Shit, dawg! Franklin! FRANKLIN, BREATHE!!! C'MON, NIGGA, BREATHE! NOT NOW, NOT LIKE THIS!!!" Lamar performed compressions on Franklin's chest, but to no avail. Passersby stop and stare at the house, while Lamar screams. Franklin exhales his last breath.

**_I am nothing_**

**_Post Script: I dislike this story, and I will not be making changes to it, as it's status is very low on my working list. Do not expect any updates._**


End file.
